


Broken Angel

by acityofsleeplesspeople



Category: iCarly
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acityofsleeplesspeople/pseuds/acityofsleeplesspeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has always been fearless, never needing anything from anyone. Freddie knows everything about her- or does he? And when long-forgotten demons from Sam's painful past return to haunt her, can she find the strength to let Freddie in, or is she too far gone to allow anyone to save her? SEDDIE. Rated M for violent themes and mild language. Please R&R!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Don't Wanna Be Anything Other Than What I've Been Trying to Be Lately.

_**(Sam's POV)** _

I walked through the cool Seattle night, moonlight glinting off my blonde hair, and these stupid shoes I borrowed from Carly killing my feet with each step I took on the rain-kissed pavement. I was humiliated. And by who? GIBBY. Gibby, the person that I take great pains to torment and embarrass, had rejected me for the Girls' Choice dance. He already had plans with a girl. Let me repeat that: Gibby, short, spiky headed, often shirtless little nub, already had plans with a girl. And he turned me down. Me, Samantha Puckett, the girl whose name strikes fear and loathing into most hearts at Ridgeway. What has this world come to?

I know I can be intimidating, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be liked. If someone would just take the time to get to know me, maybe I could start to break down all these walls I'm so good at putting up. Maybe, I could see what it's actually like to be myself.

I shook my head vigorously. I didn't like to be all girly and vulnerable. It was just weird. All I wanted now was to enjoy a smoothie with my friends, and maybe have a little fun after the suckish night I'd had. I wouldn't even punch Freddie. Well… maybe I would, but not that hard. Occasionally, Momma is feeling in a giving mood.

I tossed my hair over my shoulders as I stepped up to the door of the Groovy Smoothie, and shivered a bit as I opened it and air came rushing out. I started to say hi to Carly and Fredweird, but as I took a step inside the shop, I saw it:

Freddie and Carly, embracing each other, her with her face snuggled against his chest, he with his newly muscular arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting on her glossy brown head. They swayed around, dancing. I just stood there agape, one hand still on the lapel of my coat from where I had started to take it off. Carly faced the wall, and thankfully couldn't see me. I craned my neck to get a better look at them. Carly's arms encircled Freddie, and his eyes were closed, a stupid smile playing across his irritatingly perfect mouth.

I stepped backward carefully, not allowing the heels of my shoes to make the slightest click on the black and white tiled floor. Drawing my coat back around myself tightly, I gently pushed the door back open, trying to keep the bells on it from clanging and signifying my presence, and ventured into the night. As the door closed behind me, I stomped off down the sidewalk, defiantly clomping my heels into the pavement. I paused for a second, looked back through the window. Carly and Freddie were still entwined, slowly moving around that one spot between the tables. All I could think was how much I wanted to—no. Just no. No no no.

I started off toward home, glaring at each passerby, and gradually walking faster and faster. I came to a crosswalk just as the light turned and had to wait. Normally I wouldn't care, but I didn't feel like trying to run across the street in these ridiculous shoes. I'd probably fall down and get run over by a truck. Maybe a ham truck. Wouldn't that be the best way to go, surrounded by piles of delicious ham?

As I paused, the wind blew, raising goosebumps on my arms, and I huddled inside my jacket that was too old, too small and too worn out to give me any sort of warmth on a night like this. I felt a drop of water hit my cheek. Great. It was going to start raining again, and not only I would get completely soaked, but I'd also ruin Carly's shoes. I looked up at the sky to see just how cloudy it was, and try to gauge how much time I had to get home before it started pouring. Strangely, the sky was clear. How weird. That never happens here.

Another drop of water tapped my cheek. There weren't any trees around that could be dripping on me. I was puzzled—where was this water coming from, and why was it warm?

Another drop. Another. I had to know what was happening. I reached up and swiped a finger across my cheek, then touched it carefully to the tip of my tongue, ready for any sort of gross thing that it could be. Momma isn't afraid of anything.

It was salty. I knew then that it wasn't rain. As the light finally turned, I hurried across the street and paused in front of a closed store to gaze at my reflection in the window.

I was a mess, to say the least. My hair was frizzy, my clothes wrinkled, my pathetic jacket slumped over me like a rag. I leaned closer, so I could better inspect myself. The eye makeup Carly had so carefully applied streaked down my cheeks like a black river, my eyes were puffy and red, and there was a new hitch in my breathing that I hadn't noticed before. I turned my back to the shop, arms crossed, and pressed one foot against the wall. I felt more and more drops trail down my face, which felt completely strange to me. I tried to stop what I knew was happening, but I just couldn't.

I can tell you exactly the last time I remember crying. I was eight. My twin sister, Melanie, was going off to boarding school. She hugged me and got on the train, waving to me sadly as it chugged away. I was little. Although I knew where she was going, the idea of boarding school was confusing to me. I thought my sister was leaving me, and never coming back. What was I going to do without her? I fingered the ham keychain in my pocket—she had used her allowance to buy it for me. I held that little ham and missed my sister and was afraid and young and alone and I couldn't handle it—I started bawling in the middle of the train station. My mother grabbed my arm and told me stop to making a scene, or I'd really get it when I got home. But I couldn't stop—my sister, my Melanie, with whom I shared not only my face, but also a real bond and connection—she was gone.

That was the last time I have ever cried. It was over someone I really loved and thought I lost, and it broke my heart. Later, when I realized she hadn't gone away for good, I scolded myself and swore to never cry over anything again. I didn't want my parents to have one more thing to yell at me about. I didn't want to show I had feelings. I wanted to be strong, and so I made myself that way. It was easier to pretend that I just didn't feel anything at all.

But here I was, standing on the sidewalk, looking awful and feeling even worse, crying. If I love you, like I love Melanie, I guess that's what happens, but if it's someone I hate, like Freddie, I'd put salad dressing in their shampoo bottle, or mail their cell phone to Cambodia or something.

My shoulders shook with sobs.  _What_ was I crying about? The nubs passing me by gave me weird looks and then hurried away.

I breathed in and out slowly, and my mind ground to a halt. Burned into my memory was the view of Fredwardo, dancing with Carly, eyes closed, and with that idiotic smile plastered across his face.

The sudden realization made me bolt upright and swipe at my eyes to get the streams of makeup off of my face. I slapped myself hard on the cheek, forcing the thoughts out of my head.

I turned away from the store and began walking again, continuing to head toward my house. Actually, I guess I was more powerwalking—arms flailing, chin held high, blonde curls flying out behind me, pushing my feet onto the ground with an unnecessary amount of force. I was horrified at myself.

If I ever thought about  _him_  like that again, I was jumping off the Bushwell Plaza.

Sam Puckett is too tough, too strong, and too mean to love anyone.

And she doesn't need anyone to love her.

She is just fine on her own.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This fanfic is my much angstier version of how I think that the Sam/Freddie relationship should have happened, using the end of the episode "iSpeed Date" as a jumping off point. It is told in alternating viewpoints.

The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "I Don't Want To Be" by Gavin DeGraw.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	2. I Don't Think I'm Ever Gonna Figure It Out.

_**(Freddie's POV)** _

I broke away from Carly, ending our dance.

"Thank you for making my night at least a little bit enjoyable," I said, smiling.

"Back at you." She smiled. "It's almost ten. Shouldn't Sam be here by now? I wonder where she is." Almost as if on cue, her PearPhone pinged and she pulled it out of her pocket. "Speaking of Sam… she says Gibby… turned her down?" Her eyes widened. "Wow."

I laughed. "Gibby turned her down? What's happening to the world? I mean, I know she gives him teases him a lot, but still, I feel like he should be overjoyed at someone asking him out."

Carly shrugged her shoulders. "You would think so, wouldn't you? But apparently he wasn't. Still, I don't think she minds that much. It's not like she really  _wanted_ to go with him. I doubt she's heartbroken over it. It's not like they were, you know, like, _destined_  to end up together or anything."

I tried to make my eyes smolder like I'd seen in the movies. "What about you and me together?"

"Never gonna happen, Freddie," she replied, playfully punching me in the shoulder.

"Yeah, didn't think so," I laughed. "So, is she coming or not?"

Carly tapped on her phone. "I don't think so. Apparently her mom got her welfare check today and got her some Fat Cakes and a new container of ham. If I know anything about Sam, it's that she loves her food. I doubt she'll be going anywhere for while."

I laughed. It was so true. "You're probably right. Let's go."

A few days later, we were rehearsing for the show, like normal. Well, I shouldn't say normal- nothing with Sam and Carly involved is ever normal- but we practiced the different bits, and everything went pretty smoothly, without too many hitches.

When rehearsal was over, we were sitting around the kitchen like we always did, talking and eating spaghetti tacos. When Sam got up to get something, I asked her to get me another can of Peppy Cola. She rarely did me any favors, so I wasn't expecting this to be any exception, and I was actually starting to get up to get it myself when she did as I'd asked, handing me the soda on her way to sit back down. She didn't even bother to open it and spit in it. That was weird. She loved doing that. I studied her, trying to see if she was masking a smile that would give away whether or not she'd actually done something to my drink that I just hadn't seen. But as I carefully watched her, trying to pick out any impishness in her expression, I noticed that her face was actually strangely devoid of any emotion. My eyes wandered to her plate. I saw that it was nearly full. She had barely even picked at it. As Carly and Spencer chatted to each other, I continued to observe Sam. She wasn't saying much of anything, just keeping to herself, twirling a stray curl around her finger and pushing her food around her plate. I could tell that something was up with her.

Suddenly, Spencer dragged Carly off to get the fire extinguisher- somehow the pan full of spaghetti had burst into flames. As they were preoccupied with putting it out, I tapped Sam on the arm.

"Sam."

She looked up, her previously blank blue eyes suddenly filled with irritation. "What do you want, Freddifer?"

"It's just- I couldn't help but notice that you've barely eaten anything. You haven't said one mean thing to me all night. You didn't even tamper with my beverage. Are you okay?"

"I'm just tired," she sighed, fiddling with her fork. "And I'm not hungry."

"You're not hungry?" I scoffed a little. "Sam, I have known you for years, and I've never seen you turn down food or a chance to mess with me before. Why is tonight different? Is something wrong?"

She looked up from her plate to stare me down with steely eyes. "There's a first time for everything. I'm fine. Stop worrying or you'll get a rash. Should I ask your mother to give you a bath and ointment tonight?"

I shuddered at the thought of that. "No."

"Who knew that spaghetti would be flammable?" Spencer shouted.

Sam just ignored him, oblivious to the rising flames behind her, and pulled on her big old grey hoodie, carefully tugging her long hair out from under the collar. "Bye Carls, I'll see you tomorrow!"she called. She faced me as she turned to leave, and for a moment I thought she was going to punch me. I almost hoped that she would; she was acting entirely too strange. It seemed like she was going to say something to me, like there was something on the tip of her tongue, but the blank look faded back over her face as she shoved her hands deep into her pockets and headed toward the door. "Bye, Freddie."

It wasn't until after she left that I realized that, for the first time in a long, long time, she had called me by my real name.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter is named after a lyric from the song "I Don't Think I'm Ever Gonna Figure It Out" by Elliott Smith.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	3. You Don't Know What I'm Feeling.

_**(Sam's POV)** _

I headed down the sidewalk to the bus stop, the breeze lifting my hair away from my face. It felt good, like I could finally think clearly. I was such a mess lately, and I hated it. I didn't like feeling out of control.

The bus came roaring to the curb just as I reached the stop, spraying me with dirty water left in the gutter from yet another day of rain. Normally, that would irritate the crap out of me, but I was so out of it that I barely noticed. I climbed the steps, dropped my money in, and sat in my usual seat, cupping my chin in my hand and staring past my reflection in the window to the world outside. It was the same bus stop. Same skeevy guy hanging out in front of the little market. Same Groovy Smoothie. All of it was exactly the same, but I felt different, and I hated it. I hated how I couldn't speak in front of Freddison, hated not being able to talk to Carly about it, hated the constant churning in my stomach, and I mostly hated myself for letting this happen. This wasn't like me at all.

Most people enjoy being alone. It comforts them somehow. Me, I never liked being alone. Even on this short bus ride home I didn't like it. Shocking, right? The girl who likes hurting and teasing and bullying others and scaring them off so much doesn't like to be alone. That's the reason I spend so much time at Carly's. Since I'll never have one of my own, it's nice to see what a normal family might be like, even though calling what Carly and Spencer have 'normal' is a huge stretch.

Suddenly, the bus screeched to a halt, aggressively throwing me forward into the seat in front of me and snapping me back into reality. I shook my head, hard, as if I could shake all of my thoughts right out of my brain. I had to learn to stop thinking so much! I walked off the bus into the dim evening light, then down the gravel road to my house.

After carefully climbing the crumbling steps, I shoved my key in the lock and opened the door. As always, it was a complete mess. Food wrappers, empty alcohol bottles- pretty much just trash everywhere.

"Mom?" I called. I shut and locked the door, pulled off my hoodie and tossed it onto the ripped recliner. "Mom, are you here?" I walked down the hallway, wading carefully through the piles of garbage until I finally found my mom in her room.

You should know that Pam Puckett has never had the greatest luck in the motherhood department, and she doesn't even have the excuse of saying that her intentions are good. She never cared about me as a child, always turning a blind eye to me, and she didn't quit doing that even after my father got sent to prison for what he did. I think she still blames me for that, even though deep down I guess I know that it wasn't my fault. I was never good enough to please her, so eventually I just stopped trying. It was easier for me, and that way Melanie got some attention, like I'd always known she needed. I was definitely the dominant twin. I didn't need as much as she did.

My mom sat slouched in her computer chair, eating chow mein from a greasy cardboard box. I peered into the bag beside her to see if she had any more. As usual, she had completely forgotten to feed me. Carly and Freddie always tease me about how much I eat when I'm over at the Shays', but they don't realize just how little food I get at home. Usually, all I'm given for the week is a container of ham, a box of Fat Cakes and a few cans of Peppy Cola.

My stomach rumbled. I suddenly wished I had eaten my spaghetti tacos at Carly's while I had the chance. Oh well. I'd just steal Gibby's lunch money tomorrow or something. Momma's gotta eat, and she has a score to settle with that nub.

"Sam, stop hovering in the doorway. Either come inside, or go to your room." She viciously dug her chopsticks into the box, and I carefully tiptoed into the room, hoping that, by some miracle, my mom would be in a good enough mood to talk to me, and maybe even give me some advice on what I should. But as I entered, I saw the all-too-familiar mask of irritation on her face, and I knew that this wasn't going to be a good conversation.

"Oh, god," she sighed. She clearly hadn't expected me to actually come inside. "What do you want? Your ham had better not be gone already. It's only Tuesday, and you know you don't get anymore until Saturday."

"It's not," I whispered, fighting to keep my voice steady. I could feel my muscles starting to tense up with anticipation of being yelled at. "I still have some left."

"For your sake, I hope you're right." She turned away and slurped a few more noodles. She glanced back up, and seemed surprised to see that I was still there. "Jesus, Sam, you're like the plague. Just tell me what you want and then go away!" She finally really looked at my face and saw my pained expression. "What's wrong with your face? It's all pinched looking or something. Are you sick? If you're sick, get away from me! I don't want to catch your disease. My new boyfriend and I are going to see the monster trucks this weekend." She went back to her take out. I didn't know whether to move, or to stay and try and talk to her. Seconds later, the question was answered for me. "I thought I told you to get your sick ass out of here!"

I got up and left, going to my room across the hall and shutting the door. I changed into a grey tank top and basketball shorts, leaving my outfit from the day piled on the bare wooden floor. Even though it was only nine o' clock, I was exhausted, so I turned off the light and crawled under my worn covers, curling into a ball so I wouldn't disturb Frothy, who was stretched out along the foot of the bed.

As was usually the case at night, all of the feelings I had tried so hard to fight away all day came flooding back, and I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. I closed my eyes, hoping to fall peacefully asleep, but all that was in my mind was the image of Freddie and Carly from that night in the Groovy Smoothie, being closer than I had ever seen them. Then I remembered how concerned Freddie had been at the Shays', asking me if I was okay and seeming to truly want to know the answer, but I had pushed him away like the jerk I always am. And then my own mother couldn't even pull her face out of her damned Chinese food long enough to talk to me.

I tried not to whimper as I felt tears fill my eyes and run down my cheeks, making a damp spot in my hair.

I didn't know how much longer I could do this.

I may be strong and mean and cruel, but, on the inside, I'm just a sad little girl stuck with memories of a painful childhood, trapped in that moment of sorrow at the train station, forever unable to let anyone in.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Listen" from Dreamgirls.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	4. Maybe I Should Keep This To Myself.

_**(Sam's POV)** _

Sunlight was streaming through the broken shade on my bedroom window, so bright that it felt like it was slapping me in the face. I could hear the irritating, cheerful song of birds outside. I grunted and pulled a pillow over my head to block out the sun and noise. I was so tired. I didn't want to be awake yet.

Just as I was starting to drift back off to sleep, my phone starting ringing. Shrilly. Even my pillow fortress couldn't block it out. Sighing, I tossed the pillow onto my wooden floor and sat up. I rubbed my fists over my eyes and yawned as I picked up my phone.

"Hello?" My voice sounded thick. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Hello?"

"Sam!" Carly chirped. "Where are you? We're supposed to help Spencer with his new sculpture today, remember? The customer is coming to pick it up tomorrow, and he hasn't even started it yet, plus we have to pick up a new fire extinguisher before he starts. The fire department sent us a letter telling us that they won't come back to our apartment for the next year because Spencer is 'depleting' their resources."

I smiled. "It's because your brother somehow miraculously manages to set things on fire. Like that water! Remember that?"

"Yeah. Freddie spent about a week trying to figure out how he did that. I guess he just has the magic touch. Anyway, are you coming? He really needs to get this thing done."

"Yeah, I'll be there soon."

"Okay!"

I flipped my phone shut and shuffled over to my beaten dresser, rooting through the open drawers until I found my favorite pair of jeans and a Penny Tee that only had one barbecue sauce stain on it. I pulled them on and grabbed my key. As I walked out of the room, I peeked across the hall to see if my mom was there. She wasn't. Not surprising. I continued down the hall into the kitchen, where I found a note on the sticky table.

"Sam," I read aloud. "Going out of the country for a few days to get some Botox, then I'm spending some time with my boyfriend. Don't know when I'll be back. I left some more ham in the fridge. Go to Carly's for anything else. Don't call me or disturb me with any of your crap. Mom."

I sighed. My mom left me all the time. I didn't mind, really, because I was going to be ignored either way. It just- and I cannot believe I'm saying this- it made me feel... weird, I guess, when I saw Carly and Spencer together, talking about their problems and giving each other advice. I don't have anything like that. My dad is out of the picture, my mom couldn't care less, Melanie is always studying and Carly is so sheltered that she rarely knows how to help. But after everything that had happened in the last couple of days, I had to admit that talking to someone was exactly what I needed. I just couldn't. I didn't have anyone.

Or maybe I did.

Freddie had tried. Freddie had talked to me last night, trying to get me to open up to him. It was the first time that I could remember anyone ever seeming to really want to help me. And what had I done? I had pushed him away, like I do everyone else. But it wasn't just that- he wasn't like everyone else. How could I talk to him, when he was my very problem?

I checked myself. I couldn't keep thinking about things like that, or I'd go all soft. I ran my fingers through my hair, breaking up a wad of curls that had become entangled in my sleep. Patting Frothy, I headed out the door.

As I came to the bus stop, I pulled my phone out my pocket to see if I had enough time to get a Fat Cake and a smoothie before I went to Carly's. Before I could look at the clock, though, I noticed something on the screen:

"1 New Message

From: Fredweird"

I got on the bus, settled in my seat, and clicked the message open. Freddie never texted me. This was so weird. What could he possibly want?

"Sam, I know you hate me, and you're gonna want to rip me apart when you read this, but I had to say something. You may be a good actress, but you are a horrible liar. I know something's wrong. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I'm always here. I know you have Carly, but you have me, too. Anytime."

My heart was pounding in my ears and I couldn't seem to breathe. How could he possibly know all that? I never thought he'd be so perceptive. He spent so much time with his head shoved in a damned camera or computer that I never expected him to... say that. Be so sweet...

I started to type out a reply. "Freddie, you're right, I'm-"

Wait. No. Bad. Bad Sam. What was I doing?

I quickly deleted what I'd typed and started again: "Fredward, don't get yourself into a tizzy. I'm fine. I was just tired. And if you ever send me something that sappy again, I'm signing you up for the Campfire Girls." Send. Phone in pocket.

As soon as I pressed that button, I regretted it. He'd tried to help me again, even after I'd completely brushed him off. Maybe he really did care about me. I needed to text him back, I needed to make him understand-

The phone was back out, my thumb hovering over the keys.

No. I couldn't. I made a promise. I had to be strong.

I didn't owe him an explanation, and I didn't need his help.

This was going to pass, right? I'd be myself again soon, and everything would be okay.

At least, I hoped it would.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Fallin' For You" by Colbie Caillat.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	5. Even Though I Know What's Wrong, How Can I Be So Sure If You Never Say What You Feel?

_**(Freddie's POV)** _

I knew that Sam was acting weird, even for her, a girl whose sanity could be seriously questioned at pretty much any time of the day. Something was bothering her. Something was wrong.

And, for some strange reason I couldn't even begin to understand, I cared. I was worried about her, and I wanted to help. How insane is that? I wanted to help the person who done nothing but belittle and torture me for so long. I didn't even know why, exactly, it was just- that night at Carly's, her face- I had never seen her look like that before. Never.

I guess I should explain. What you need to know is, Sam might not have the largest or deepest range of emotions, but it's not like she doesn't have one at all. Hers is just buried deeper than other people's, and you have to know where to look. Luckily, I do: you can tell a lot about a person by their eyes, and Sam's are the easiest to read that I've ever seen. Like, when she's happy? Her eyes are at their biggest, full of joy and a bright, cerulean color. She's angry? They get narrow, almost the size of slits, a stormy shade of navy. But that's all I know, really. I can't tell you what they look like when she's sad, because I've never seen her that way before. I do know, though, that that night in Carly's kitchen, her eyes definitely did not match either of her normal moods. She looked tired, but I know for a fact that she wasn't. She couldn't be- she had napped through most of iCarly practice. Her eyes were a color I'd never seen them before: they were a darker shade of blue, but kind of clouded over looking, like she was far away, and, wherever she was, it wasn't a place she wanted to be. I know it sounds silly to read this deeply into something as seemingly minor as eyes, but with Sam, there just really isn't anywhere else to look. The only emotion I've ever seen her show consistently is anger. She never really talks about how she's feeling, unless she's mad, and even then she just spits out incoherent streams of words soaked with rage until she calms down enough to actually talk about it. I've never really known her to mention anything about sadness, hurt, disappointment, or loneliness. I guess I just figured that it was almost as if she didn't have the capability to feel those things. But, when I saw her eyes that night, I suddenly knew, beyond a doubt, that she did.

Honestly, the realization kind of scared me. We fought so much, constantly picking on each other, that it never really occurred to me to think of her as a person. It sounds awful, but it's true. The only perception of her that I'd ever had was of a hungry, angry, rude thing that I had to put up with in order to be friends with Carly. I'm so ashamed- after all, she's a human being. She needed to be treated like one, with the care and respect she deserves, and with all of the courtesy I had ever shown to any other girl. That deep pain in her face made me understand that, just because she always acts a certain way, that doesn't necessarily mean that that is who she is.

I had woken up from a fitful night's sleep and kept turning all of this over in my mind, unable to keep sleeping even though it was incredibly early. I lay on the couch, wrestling with the uncomfortable feeling of guilt that had settled into the pit of my stomach. I knew I wouldn't able to live with myself if I didn't find some way to reach out to her. On a whim, I pulled out my PearPhone and typed her a quick text. There. Conscience cleared.

About half an hour later, while I had given up on sleep completely and was making myself some breakfast, my phone went off. I unlocked it, and saw that I had a new message from Sam. I clicked it open and read it. As I had expected, she tore into me, mocking me, making me feel like an absolute idiot. I sighed and tossed my phone on the counter before busying myself with cracking eggs for an omelette. I was such a nub. I didn't even know why I bothered trying. Even so, the guilt in the pit of my stomach stayed there all day, as much as I tried to ignore it. I knew I had to try a different approach.

So, during the show that night, in between bits when the camera wasn't on her, I studied her again and again. She kept crossing her arms tightly across her chest, like she was trying to protect herself from something. It also seemed like she was intentionally avoiding looking at me. I was about to just give up and go straight home after the show, but then, it came: a lightbulb blew, and she jumped and looked up to see what the noise was. As she gazed around the studio, searching for the source of the noise, we locked eyes. Even from a distance, I could see that they were still that same shade of deep, cloudy blue. I smiled at her, hoping to get one in return, or even a glare, just to know that everything was cool. I got neither. She just cleared her throat and turned away.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Fix A Heart" by Demi Lovato.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


	6. Could This Really Be A Safe Place To Fall?

_**(Sam's POV)** _

Thankfully, the lightbulb that had blown wasn't one that played a very important role in the show, so we were able to keep going. As we did, I couldn't help but notice that Freddie could hardly keep his eyes off me. I avoided every glance as best I could, trying my hardest to not make eye contact with him. Still, though, he kept staring at me. It was weird.

We finished the webshow, then went downstairs to get some food, like we always did. As we plowed through pizza and Peppy Cola, I laughed along and made sarcastic comments when necessary to keep everyone from noticing that I was drowning in my thoughts, analyzing the chiz out of what had just happened:

He had smiled at me.

I make his life a living hell on a daily basis, and he smiled at me.

I think that maybe, just maybe, I can admit that I... I...

He shot me another grin when Carly wasn't looking. I turned away and stared into my pizza, allowing myself to sink back into my thoughts-

I like him. I do.

_Oh my God, I like Freddie._

Finally admitting it caused an immediate feeling of discomfort in my chest, like I was choking on the truth. I hadn't said how I felt for so long that it actually hurt me when I was honest with myself.

You have to understand- I've never really liked or loved anyone before. At least, not anyone other than my sister, and maybe Carly. I would have never thought that I was capable of having actual feelings toward a guy. I mean, sure, I've been on dates, but I went on those more for the promise of free food than the hope of making any sort of connection. I know that growing up with my family like I did, seeing my parents and their relationship gave me a warped sense of things. Ever since I was little, I've been- and I can't believe I'm saying this- I've been afraid of feeling anything. I was so used to getting punished for it as a child that I guess I just didn't want to be vulnerable anymore.

I'm so used to being in control. When I was a kid, everything that was going on, all the shit that my parents put me and Melanie through- those things weren't something I had any say in, at all. I couldn't control what happened to me physically, so I compromised by controlling everything else: my feelings, my actions, other people. It was the only thing I knew how to do.

But now, in Spencer and Carly's kitchen, this sudden realization of my feelings for Freddie slammed into me like a ton of bricks. I felt like I was in a war zone, and I didn't have my bulletproof vest on. I was terrified. I couldn't think. I sat at the counter, clenching and unclenching my fists, trying to control my breathing, feeling that vulnerability that I had fought away for the past ten years. I was seventeen years old, but I felt like a child, scared and alone and not knowing what was going to happen.

"Sam?" Carly called, waving her hand in front of my face. "Sam!"

I jumped, nearly knocking my can of soda over. "What?"

"You're like a million miles away, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. Just thinking about meat."

Carly looked satisfied with this, but over her shoulder I saw Freddie, shaking his head. Damn him! I had always known that he was booksmart, but I would have never expected him to be that damn perceptive.

Carly stood up. "I'm making a run to the Groovy Smoothie, do you want anything?"

"Yeah, get me a blueberry blitz," I replied.

"Okay. Got it. Freddie? Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine," he murmured.

"Okay." Carly pulled her coat on. "Did you guys want to come, or do you just want to wait here?"

"Wait here." We both said it in unison, then locked eyes with each other.

Carly, completely oblivious to the tension between us, flitted toward the door. "Okay! I'll be right back!"

Right after she left the apartment, Spencer's phone rang, and he fled the apartment too, screaming something about his friend Socko's grandmother having a fiesta and giving away sombreros.

With him gone, Freddie sidled up to me, hands stuck in his pockets.

"Sam?"

"What?" I focused on carefully shredding the leftover crust of my pizza between my fingers, willing my heartbeat to slow and my breathing to even out.

"Look, don't get mad, okay? It's just... I know something is bothering you. And I know you're not the kind of person to ask for help, but, please, just let me in."

"Nothing is wrong, Fredward. I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Like I said in my text, you're a terrible liar. You start twisting that curl on the left side of your head when you're lying," He reached up, gently tugged my hand from my hair. I hadn't even realized I was doing that. The mangled crust lay on my plate, forgotten. "And your eyes are doing that cloudy thing they've been doing lately. I've never seen them look like that before..." Wait, how the  _hell_  did he notice that? The only other person to ever notice that was Melanie, because her eyes did exactly the same thing. "...and you're being all quiet, and you aren't eating as much lately, and I honestly can't even recall the last time you hit me. Whatever it is, Sam, I promise I won't tell anyone, no matter what, not even Carly. I just..." he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I- I know I don't show it, but I really do care about you. Just let me-"

My heart was pounding. I knew what I had to do.

I didn't let him finish.

Instead, I stood up, gently placed a hand on either side of his face, and I kissed him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The title of this chapter comes from a lyric from the song "Lightweight" by Demi Lovato.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and appreciated! :)


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